Page 97 of Ella Gets the D
Morgan looks down at the screen with an eye roll. There’s nothing vulgar there, just a room number, but if I had a brother she was going to ride for most of the night, I might get grossed out too.
“See you tomorrow.” It’s a struggle to hide my smile.
“Yeah, yeah. Have a good night.”
“I plan to.”
She covers her ears and shoulder checks me. “Too soon!”
Chapter 36
Julian
Ishould get an award for the round of Red Light, Green Light it took to get up here. Haile taught me how to play once after dinner, and a week’s worth of pizza and juice boxes for her class are on me.
My life is the DC version ofSquid Game, only I dodge attempts to pry into my private life instead of deadly bouts for a cash prize.
Speed walk through the suits waiting for their next photo op. Green light.
Play twenty questions with the front desk attendant who’s scanning the lobby for whoever is about to join me. I dodge the blogger next to the elevator pretending not to pay attention. Red light.
Who the fuck cares why I’m getting a room for the night or if I’m alone? Assumptions fuel gossip, and I’ll be damned if I enter a new year with my face plastered across articles about reality show wives.
Which means…
Fake a stomachache from one too many spring rolls and get a suite for the rest of the night. Green light.
That will clear the entire floor and stop gossip-chasers in search of their next scandal, one that doesn’t involve bad gas or a toilet. My stomach is just fine—except I could use a real meal.
Who thought appetizers on a holiday we spendhourscelebrating was the move?
Between the finger snacks and dodging investigations about who I’m dating, I’m over the galas.
I wouldn’t be panting this hard from rushing down the hall if I was still overseas. No one over there cares about the “fame” I get from my father’s company. With London comes anonymity, but the distance between me and Ella is no longer an option.
A few weeks here and a month and a half away was doable in the beginning, when we were navigating the friendship lane. Now that we’re merging onto the next level, I need more. I needher. If that means searching for hidden cameras with a phone flashlight in the dark like a special agent, call me 007.
It takes me ten minutes to sweep the 1,800-square-foot suite that screams gaudy in high definition. At $7,000 a night, there are enough drapes to clothe the naked and hold a fashion show to pat yourself on the back about it in front of the press.
I send Ella a text. She would lose her shit if she found out the price, but I didn’t think twice. Just like when I bought the building Swigs is in and moved into the apartment upstairs. It uncomplicated our living situation and put my best friend’s rent money back in his pocket. Win-win.
Ella should know I’d drop enough to hole up here for a year if it meant I could see the flash in her eyes when she stepped into her power with confidence. The more she takes back her independence, the less she puts her own needs on the backburner to care for others. She can have it all on her own terms, and witnessing her metamorphosis in real time is anhonor as much as it is a turn-on. Morgan can talk all the shit she wants, but I’m Ella’s biggest fan, ready to help if she needs it and cheering her on every step of the way.
Especially if it comes with a dick grab. That caught me off guard, but he and I are both here to be of service however she needs tonight.
Sex is a bonus to the intimacy we’ve nurtured through a friendship that set itself ablaze over time. I want her truths as much as I want her moans. Her joy and well-being come before my desire to be inside of her.
A delicate knock taps against the door. “Housekeeping.” The sing-song carries through oak with a giggle at the end.
I smile at the trace of laughter and press my hands to the ivory barrier that stands between me and the woman whose mischief rivals my own. “And what do you have for me? I didn’t ask for towels.” I turn the deadbolt.
The door opens to reveal the most beautiful woman, who’s unaware that the grin she wields would bring any man to his knees. She chews the inside of her cheek and says, “Just myself. Is that enough?”
Her breath hitches when my fingers wrap around one of her wrists, and I pull her into the room and push her against the door. In her heels, she’s a couple inches taller than me. I run my nose over the blush creeping up the soft column of her neck and inhale. “You’re more than enough. You’re everything missing from my life.”
Ella’s shoulders relax on a sigh. She leans into my touch and tips her head to the foyer light casting a mosaic of shades on her face. I take my time sweeping over the thick natural curls pinned above her nape, then move to the swell of her breasts behind lace and satin. The urge to rip the fabric and suck on her nipples until I feast on her pussy into the new year takes effort to smother.
This is her night to do what she wants, when she wants, and how she wants.
